


write our names in the wet concrete

by DragonEyez



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Angst, Behind the Scenes, Canon Compliant, Deleted Scenes, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn, and also they're both trans and ronan is black bc i make the rules, assumed suicide attempt, theres nothing worse in here than the books
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 07:03:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12906663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonEyez/pseuds/DragonEyez
Summary: a look at gansey and ronan through the years





	write our names in the wet concrete

**Author's Note:**

  * For [izzylizardborn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzylizardborn/gifts).



> title from fall out boy's "last of the real ones"
> 
> me, in the middle of writing 2 other fics in september: maybe i'll write a ronsey deleted scenes fic
> 
> zzy: :O YOU BETTER
> 
> and then i committed to it so

Depending on where you began the story, two boys laid in the hay-filled loft of a barn, casually sprawled across each other in an ease that suggested years of friendship, not a few short months. It was a lazy summer afternoon and they were making the best of it. Ronan sprawled over Gansey’s stomach, fidgeting with a puzzle box he’d said Niall had brought back from some business meeting or other while Gansey used his back as a very convenient book rest. He was very animatedly reading the newest book that Mallory had sent him aloud, not quite sure if his friend was paying attention or not, but it was more about the principle of sharing the information than anything. It was a fascinating collection of Welsh folklore and he was combing through it for any signs of overlap in what was written, what he’d found in the U.K., and Henrietta. Occasionally Ronan interjected with a question, or more likely a crude joke that sent the two into fits. At the halfway mark, Gansey closed the book with an extremely satisfying thunk and set it gently aside. Ronan rolled over in response to look at Gansey, confused. 

“Why’d you stop?”

He started to say something about lunch or a snack, but the words fell out of his life as he became very aware of Ronan’s presence. Not just his physical presence, but how much his Ronan-ness took up their small space. It was a pleasant kind of overwhelming but it left Gansey unmoored for a moment. 

“You’ve got hay in your hair.” He pointed out in a very manner-of-fact way instead of- instead of what? He shook his own head before gesturing towards Ronan’s. “May I?”

Instead of answering, Ronan gazed at him with a lazy side-long look that suddenly reminded Gansey very much of the barn cat that sometimes deigned to grace the house with its presence. Gansey met his gaze, waiting to see how Ronan would react. It felt like a challenge of a sort, although he couldn’t’ve told you why exactly. In lieu of a verbal response, Ronan simply moved his head over so Gansey had better reach in silent permission. He took the acceptance immediately, pulling out all the hay he could find. 

“You’re basically a hay bale at this point, Ro.” He said teasingly. “Maybe we should just stick your head in the stable and let the horses take care of this.”

“Har-dee-har-har.” Ronan dead panned. “Maybe when you’ve found Glendower, your next quest should be becoming a traveling comedian.”

“As luck would have it, I do believe my parents still plan on me engaging in the family tradition of politics, so I’ve already started down that path. Now shove off, I’m hungry.”

“Pretty sure there’s snacks in the fridge still if Dec and Matt didn’t eat them all. Wanna go check and see?”

“That is precisely what I want to go do actually Mr. Lynch. So kindly just-” Gansey pushed at Ronan, and for a moment he thought the other boy would turn himself to stone and refuse to let even Gansey budge him an inch. There was that sidelong look again, and then suddenly Ronan as pulling himself to his feet; decidedly Not Looking at Gansey and he readjusted his binder and pointedly not helping him to his feet either. Gansey didn’t mind though, he awkwardly scrambled up good naturedly and made sure to remember the tome he’d temporarily abandoned. He pulled at his own shirt similarly before squaring his shoulders (“Ganseys don’t slouch, son” He remembered the heavy hand clapping down on his back). “Well then. Shall we see what Mrs. L- What Aurora’s left in the fridge for us?”

Ronan grinned wide at him; the glee of competition shining through. “Whatever it is I’ve got first dibs.” And then in the blink of an eye he was practically sliding down the ladder amongst Gansey’s loud laughing protests. He knew Ronan would be waiting for him halfway to the house, a shadow backlit in the afternoon sun, so he took his time. Aglionby might be a closely-looming promise, but for now, they certainly had all the time in the world.

\---

The day everything fell apart again, or rather, the day they’d buried Niall, the sky was unfairly clear. They should’ve been planning for the Fourth of July celebrations (not that the Lynches really cared about the American holiday but rather that Ronan and Niall would embrace any holiday that allowed them to blow something up) or getting ready for Gansey’s next expedition. Ronan and Gansey had just moved a fridge into Monmouth, and they’d been scouting for more furniture to shove in next. It had been a whole ordeal, and afterwards they’d collapsed on the dusty floor against each other, sweaty but laughing. Matthew had been talking about trying to start learning to skateboard, and Declan had been agreeing to go with him. Aurora- 

Well, instead of living up to the glorious promises the rest of summer had to offer, the Lynch brothers stood shoulder to shoulder in the church cemetery watching a notably closed casket being lowered into the dry earth. Absently, Gansey thought that they looked like 3 crows on a telephone line, huddling together to avoid falling. As soon as the service was over, Ronan tore away from his brothers and leaned his forehead against Gansey’s shoulder, clutching him like he was a drowning man and Gansey was his last chance of survival. Gansey made no move to touch him, just let Ronan suck in a few raspy breaths.

“What do you need, Ro?”

“I need to go home.”

“Alright.”

“Home” was a complicated idea at the moment, considering how Niall’s will had forced all his sons out of theirs. Declan had been calling around, trying to find somewhere for them to stay, but Ronan had refused to hear any mention of it. It had led to some ugly fights between the oldest and middle Lynches; Gansey had gotten uncannily good at cleaning Ronan up at the end of every single one of them. More than once, he’d fought the urge to kiss Ronan’s bruised knuckles, settling instead for resting them against his cheek. But Gansey was reticent to be the one who would tell Ronan “no” in this moment. He gave a sharp nod and took one step back from Ronan to indicate that he was ready to leave. Declan turned around fully and tried to reach out for Ronan, but he ripped away from him with a snarled “Don’t.”

The ride back to the barns was more solemn than any Gansey had ever made before. Ronan curled up on himself, all sharp edges and dangerous angles and “fuck off” vibes. Gansey kept shooting him worried glances, but made no effort to speak to him. When they pulled up to the house, Ronan fell out of the car and slowly walked into the house. Gansey gave him a few minutes head start, staring at his fingers gripping the wheel of The Pig. His funeral suit suddenly felt constrictive; he was being mummified his skin was humming there was buzzing in his ears. Unable to stand a moment longer he pulled off the jacket and tie, tossing them into the backseat. He rolled up the sleeves as well, and it was like the exposed skin allowed him to start breathing again. Ronan had been alone for enough time, he decided, it was probably time to go and join him. 

Entering the house led to the resurgence of a faint buzzing sound, but Gansey recognized (after a brief moment of intense panic) that it was a mechanical sound coming from somewhere upstairs. In the bathroom that the brothers had all shared, he found Ronan, sobbing uncontrollably in front of the mirror. Ronan had always been a natural disaster, but here he was a typhoon, no longer his wildfire self. Gansey took in the scene: Ronan, a stripe of hair missing, and the source of the buzzing loosely held in his hands. He swooped in wordlessly, understanding what needed to be done. He gently helped Ronan sit on the floor so he had a better angle, and then kneeled next to him.

When Niall had said Ronan’s name, it sounded like he’d been saying “knife.” When Aurora had said his name, it sounded like “my heart.” Here in this moment though, with two grieving boys kneeling on the bathroom floor, neither of them were here to say anything. When Gansey walked in to see the clippers shaking in his friend’s hands, he simply sank down next to him and plucked them away wordlessly. When it was over and they were both covered in and surrounded by the ashes of Ronan’s personal phoenix, Gansey said only his name. When Gansey said Ronan’s name, it sounded like “heartbreak.”

Ronan tucked his face into the crook of Gansey’s neck until the shaking stopped. Gansey only held him. The sensation of Ronan’s newly shaved head was Strange against his skin and he was felt like he was covered in tiny hairs, but he sat quietly, only holding him. When Ronan shoved himself away from Gansey and pushed himself to his feet. He shot himself a passing glance in the mirror before leaving the bathroom, leaving Gansey alone. With a sigh, Gansey got to his feet and went downstairs for the broom and dustpan. As Ronan angrily shoved stuff around in his room, Gansey methodically cleaned up the mess and put everything back into place. Well. Almost everything.

He leaned against the doorway of Ronan’s room, taking in the chaos of Ronan packing away his entire life into one travel-battered suitcase. It must’ve been one of Niall’s, he supposed. He cleared his throat before speaking. “Ro-”

“Don’t.” Ronan spun around to face him, the simple command a snarl. 

A part of Gansey ached, but he pushed through it. This wasn’t about him at all, and he knew it. “Ronan. Just stop for a minute. Please.” He moved into the room and rested a light hand on his shoulder. 

“ _What?_.” Ronan seemed to melt into the touch for the barest hint of a second before he wrenched away from Gansey’s touch. 

“ _Ronan_.”  
That stopped Ronan’s chaotic whirlwind in its tracks. He turned to face Gansey with a twisted expression of emotion Gansey couldn’t help but find himself consumed by. He reached out again, more hesitantly this time, and when Ronan allowed it, pulled the other boy closer in a grasping embrace. “Move in with me? I know Monmouth can never be The Barns, but it’ll beat anywhere else. And I’ll be there and-”

“Okay.”

“-maybe it won’t be all that ba- Oh. You said okay. Right. Well. Yes.” If Gansey held on just a second longer than necessary before stepping back, who could tell? “Do you need any help packing then?”

“If you wanna fold my delicates, knock yourself out.” 

Gansey released a slow breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. With a imperceptible smile, he turned to start arranging Ronan’s suitcase into something a little more orderly.

\---

It was 2:23 AM. Or at least that’s what the clock on his phone was telling him. He supposed that he was unsurprised. It did seem like he’d been laying in bed forever, staring up at the cavernous ceilings and wishing himself to sleep. He’d read for as long as he could; worked on his burgeoning paper model of Henrietta. He’d practised all the tips he knew for combatting insomnia, and none of them had worked. This was the third night in a row that this had happend. He had to be up at 6. If he fell asleep now he’d get about three and a half hours of sleep. 2:25 AM. 

With a heavy sigh he tossed himself out of bed and padded down the long walk to Ronan’s room. The knock was short and precise and went unanswered, as he knew it would. He eased the door open and found Ronan sitting on the floor, back against the wall by his mattress. Ronan glared up him, eyes like knife blades. “Why bother knocking if you never wait for an answer, dick?” Or maybe it was “Dick.” Tone was hard to read. There was no venom behind the words so he continued in and flopped onto Ronan’s bed in a very Un-Ganseylike fashion.

“Because I know there will never be an answer.” Ronan snorted and pulled himself onto the bed and wrapped his arms around him. 

Brought back to himself finally, Gansey nestled into Ronan before frowning slightly. “You shouldn’t sleep in that you know.”

“Wasn’t sleeping, was I? Shut up and go to sleep _Dad_.”

“I’m not a dad.” Gansey protested half-heartedly, choosing instead to sink further into the embrace. The habit was reminiscent of the Old Ronan. Reminiscent of the boy with a few less knife edges who seemed to carry a bit of sunshine or magic with him wherever he went. 

Ronan growled slightly. “I can hear you thinking. Either shut up or spit it out.”

“Did you see Noah come in at all tonight?” Gansey deflected. “I didn’t.”

“I’m sure he did at some point. Stop worrying so much and go the fuck to sleep.”

“‘M not-” Gansey cut himself off with a yawn. “I’m not worried. Just curious.”

“Well stop it. It’s fucking annoying.” It was said with affection, albeit guarded. 

Gansey only smiled to himself and took comfort in Ronan’s presence until he finally fell asleep; peace if only but for a night.

\---

Gansey _hated_ hospitals. Everything about them was awful. Objectively he knew they were places that helped many people and all of that, but in this moment all he could focus on was how the white sheets of the hospital bed were leeching the color from Ronan’s already frighteningly pale skin. Ronan had always been darker than Gansey, a fact many greetings of “Hey White Boy” had made abundantly clear, but in this moment he seemed like a shadow of himself. It seemed like some mirror version of Ronan was laying in this bed, and the Real Ronan would walk in in just a moment and throw the changeling on the bed a scornful look before dragging Gansey out of the room.

But the only thing Gansey experienced was the grating fluorescent lights, the scents of disinfectant layered over the more horrifying, more human scents of decay, and the terrifyingly comforting sound of the heart monitor, the only sign of Ronan’s continued existence as he slept. 

He’d brought a book to read in some facsimile of being productive, but he couldn’t focus for more than a few sentences before he glanced back up anxiously at Ronan, as if something would snatch him away if he didn’t have eyes on him at all times. He needed the physical assurance that his friend was still there, still alive and present and _real_. The alternative was too frightening to imagine. The what-ifs raced through his mind unbidden. _What if Noah hadn’t ever found him? What if he hadn’t got there on time? What if the emergency services had been a bit too slow or Ronan’s blood a bit too fast? What if Gansey had noticed the warning signs sooner?_ They’d been Gansey-and-Ronan and not Gansey and Ronan for so long that he wasn’t sure of what would become of either of them if-

“I can hear you thinking, fucker. Disturbing my fucking beauty sleep.”

Gansey fumbled the book, dropping it with a loud _**thud**_. He pushed his glasses up and leaned closer to Ronan. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m a fucking lab rat. How the fuck do you think I fucking _feel_?” Ronan spat out. He raised his arms at Gansey, and they both got a full view of the IV stuck in him and the thick white bandages covering his forearms. “What kind of a fucking question is that?”

“Do you need- Can I get you anything?”

“Water.”

“Sure thing. Of course.” 

Gansey wasn’t even sure if this was something he was supposed to be doing, if some nurse would come and reprimand him, but Ronan had asked for something, and he would give it. He filled up a tiny cone with water from the water cooler in the hall and returned quickly, as if Ronan might disappear if he was gone just a moment too long. He helped the other boy drink, and then went and got a second cup, then a third, until Ronan told him in no uncertain terms to fuck off. 

“Do you want me to-” Gansey fidget, unsure of what to do in this moment. “Would you like me to turn on the TV?”

“Tch.”

So it seemed that Ronan’s intrinsic hatred of technology persisted even here with absolutely nothing to do. Gansey was at a loss, so he sat back down and picked his book back up, running his fingers up and down the well-worn spine. An interminable silence sat between them. They were the furthest they’d ever been from each other, despite being close enough to touch if Gansey simply reached out a hand. All the while, a voice in the back of his head whispered that this was his fault, this gap, this distance, this was Gansey’s fault. He hadn’t paid enough attention and this was what happened because of it. He had to say something.

“I wish-” No that wasn’t right. “Why didn’t you tell me things had gotten this bad, Ro?”

Ronan turned his head away from Gansey. “It’s not like that Gansey.”

“Ronan-”

“I need you to drop it Gansey.” Ronan’s tone sounded almost... pleading. “It wasn’t like that. I promise.”

“But-”

“I don’t lie. So just trust me and fucking… just drop it Gansey. Please. Tell me about your nerd book or whatever.” 

“It’s um, it’s actually a book of Irish fairy tales.”

“How’s that supposed to help you find Glendower? He was Welsh, remember dipshit? Not the same fucking country just because England took it over.”

“No I know. I- Well- It’s yours.”

That was enough to make Ronan look at him again. Gansey continued on, encouraged, at least, by the apparent engagement.

“It was the first book I thought to grab and I thought maybe, er. I don’t actually know what I was thinking.”

 _That_ was a lie. The truth was that Gansey had been so terrified of losing any part of Ronan that he took the first thing that reminded him of this wildfire boy and clutched it tight in some hope that he could- well who knows what he was hoping. All he knew was that he needed it.

“That’s still not going to help you with Glendower.”

“I think one of the most important things about Glendower is to remember that he never would have gotten very far in life without his court of his knights.” Gansey’s chest ached as he will Ronan to understand what he was saying.

Ronan gazed levelly at him before giving a small, Ronan-like smirk. It was enough to make Gansey forget for the barest instant what was surrounding this moment. “‘Course not. Everyone knows kings were fuckin’ useless.”

“Would you mind terribly if I read one of these aloud?”

“I don’t give a shit what you do.”

Gansey smiled at that, then hesitated once more. “Do you think I could…”

Ronan rolled his eyes. “Just watch out for the wires. Last thing I need is some nurse mother-henning me again.”

With explicit permission, Gansey gingerly climbed onto the bed next to Ronan, minding both the wires and the bandages. It was a bit of an awkward fit but eventually they managed to get situated and Gansey, his head rested on Ronan’s chest, began to read. It was reminiscent of summer days spent in the hayloft, when they were both untouched by the recent tragedies and ready for adventure to unfold. Eventually, Gansey knew, some nurse would come in to check on Ronan and scold them both and possibly try to kick Gansey out of the room again, and Ronan would pitch a fit. But for now, he could hear Ronan’s heart beating steadily underneath him, and that was enough.

\---

“We’re out of orange juice” was all the warning Ronan got before Gansey chucked the keys of the BMW at him. There was an edge of wildness to his smile, he knew, and he knew Ronan could see it as well. Ronan shot him back a mirrored smile, a shark’s grin full of dangerous promises.

“It three-o-fucking-two in the morning, Dickard.”

“And we’re out of orange juice. So let’s go get some.”

“Alright alright. Let me go put some shoes on.”

Gansey was coursing with some unnamed energy tonight, his fingertips buzzed and he couldn’t shake it out. Tonight was a _night_. And he intended to make the best of it. Monmouth, huge as it was, couldn’t contain him. He was Gansey Rex, Gansey On Fire, More of himself than he’d been in a while. 

“Well?” Ronan slinked back into view, spinning his keys on his finger. “Let’s go get some juice.”

They sped through the sleepy Henrietta streets, unoccupied still except by the street racers and the cops somehow hoping to catch them. Ronan rolled the windows down and blasted his music for all the hear and Gansey whooped joyfully in the passenger seat. The ride to the Stop-n-Shop was short, their trip inside shorter. Gansey made a beeline for the juice section as Ronan vanished to pick up some snack or other, and they reconverged at the register, where an exhausted clerk rang them up without any conversation. 

Back on the road, Gansey put a hand over Ronan’s. “I don’t think I want to go back to Monmouth just yet.”

Ronan raised an eyebrow at him. “Where _do_ you want to go then?” 

“I don’t know, you pick. Take me wherever, just take me _somewhere_.”

There it was, that reemerging grin. The one that said “stay back, I’m _dangerous_.” But Gansey felt dangerous tonight too. So Ronan slammed on the gas and whipped the car around til they drove further out of the city, til they could see the stars but now the street lights. The hum of the engine overpowered the the under Gansey’s skin and the wind whipping his hair around drowned out any lingering doubts he might’ve been having.

Eventually Ronan stopped and looked at him expectantly. “Well? This somewhere enough for you?”

And between the elements and the stars and the engine and the way Ronan was just _looking at him_ , Gansey was overcome. He slid his seat belt off and leaned into Ronan’s space. “It’s always somewhere, Ronan.” He murmured. And then Gansey had Ronan by the back of the neck, foreheads pressed together in the dark of the BMW. When Gansey breathed Ronan’s name, it sounded like ‘Please?’ and ‘Okay’ and ‘Love’ all in one.

Ronan closed the last millimeter of distance between them and Gansey’s heart surged.

**Author's Note:**

> this is an incredibly late birthday gift to my good friend [Zzy Lizard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzylizardborn/pseuds/izzylizardborn) (hope you love it!)
> 
> as always, comments and criticism are welcome down below, and i can be found [here](https://theunacceptablepylades.tumblr.com)


End file.
